


And what the Dead may have to say, they say with flowers

by Justafewthingstosay



Series: Alalia [2]
Category: Alalia - World of the Eldest, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: And all that jazz, Cemeteries, Talk about death, players may interact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22134229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justafewthingstosay/pseuds/Justafewthingstosay
Summary: Freyja needs to do just one thing before she can leave. Convince Mara that she is finally happy.
Series: Alalia [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1577002
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	And what the Dead may have to say, they say with flowers

It was the fifth time this month that Freyja tried to communicate with her. She could feel her, could feel the cold of her arms that wrapped around her sometimes, kept her safe, kept her protected in the familiar embrace. After all these years, she was still there, haunting her at every waking moment. 

She had to get rid of her, somehow. Freyja couldn’t stand it anymore, couldn’t stand the feeling of a constant watchman. It wasn’t fair to herself and it definitely wasn’t fair to Mara. 

So she went to the graveyard in Rory for the fifth time this month. Visiting wasn’t really a usual thing for her to do, so the spirit might have been confused in the beginning on why she was there so often. 

  
The Necromancer hadn’t been back to Rory in years, not since she had lost Mara in a fight close to the city. It wasn’t a place that she felt particularly comfortable in. But when Desdemona arrived one day, with a letter in her beak from Gakras, she decided to return. 

It had been a surprise to both Freyja and Libitina that they both knew the thieves guild of Rory well and so their travels didn’t separate them. 

Freyja had been thankful for the company. Libi was a person with a chipper attitude, she could find the light in even the darkest night and it was an attribute that Freyja greatly appreciated. She was someone that could get lost in responsibility, that stopped taking care of herself, that stopped eating when she had to figure out a certain spell, or when she had a mystery to solve, a ghost to lay to rest. 

But Libi was always there, bringing her some food when she was hunched over her spellbook, scribbling away on spells that she didn’t quite understand yet, but would soon. 

Libi was there to pull Freyja out of the gutter and bring her to the nearest bar, to meet some folks, sometimes even some evening company. 

Libi was like her sister at this point and Freyja wouldn’t want to miss her. Not like she missed Mara. 

The druid had been lovely, sometimes she had turned into a duck after a particularly bad ritual only to cheer Freyja up and it always worked. The way that she bit the woman’s legs with her beak. How she sometimes would run after people in the street only to honk at the right moment to give them a small spook. 

Mara had been a lovely partner and Freyja missed her a lot, but she needed to move on. By the gods, she tried so hard to move on, but Mara still hadn’t, which didn’t help Freyja. 

So that was how she found herself in the cemetery, Sophie was tied in her usual sheer bag on Freyja’s hip. The Necromancer needed her for this, it made it easier to commune with the dead when Sophie was close, so she usually kept her around. 

Freyja took a deep breath, the smell of wet dirt and decomposing leaves lacing itself into her nostrils, calming her. She had spent many hours on cemeteries and they all smelled the same. The scent had something grounding, something so indescribable that she didn’t even want to try to explain.

Walking through the rows of graves, she kept her head low and her hood on. For a second she let her mind wander if she would ever be laid to rest like this if someone would remember her. If someone would put flowers on her grave when she was gone. If she would even be buried. 

Death didn’t scare her, it never had, but the idea of no one remembering her, missing her. It made her stomach twist up slightly. 

She would never want to be a hero, she would never want to be the stuff they talk about in legends. But she would like to be talked about at a Tavern table, a story about a nice necromancer that helped. Even if they wouldn’t know her name, the sentiment would be there. 

Maybe she wouldn’t be remembered and if that would be the case, it wouldn’t be too bad. It just happened, people were forgotten. That’s what people did. They were either written about or forgotten. 

And when her brain posed the question of what she would prefer for herself, she arrived, stopping her brain in its tracks. 

Her eyes fell over the gravestone. Flowers growing from all around it, a little moss growing on the side, threatening to swallow the M of Mara’s name, so Freyja scratched it off, only to lay it onto the floor next to the stone. Mara would be mad if she actually kept plants from growing here. 

She felt tears at the edge of her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away, only to sit down in front of the stone, crossing her legs in the process. “Hello again,” she said carefully, her voice barely loud enough for herself to hear it. 

“I would say its been a while since I’ve come, but we both know that that isn’t the truth.” She took a deep breath, letting her eyes fall onto the single flower that she held in her hands. “I brought you a new one, from Nishi.” She lowered the dried flower onto the grave, maintaining the fragile smile she was wearing. “I don’t think you have this one yet.” 

The bright yellow petals of the flower had turned brown when she started to press and dry it. Only slightly, but noticeable. She knew that she couldn’t have stopped that process, it was natural, normal. Like death, it was unavoidable, unless you wanted to face horrible consequences. 

Freyja knew these consequences quite well, which was why she hadn’t tried to use her magic on Mara, when the arrow had pierced her throat. She wasn’t a cleric, she wasn’t able to save her, she had never been able to save her, no matter how hard she had tried. 

Mara had been destined to die on that day, her time was up. And that was still one of the biggest mysteries that Freyja had yet to face. Why did Dabria call her to her? Why did this wonderful woman have to die so early when so many people had such longer times? 

She had brought up these questions to Dabria once. She remembered it like it was yesterday. Her voice, loud and raised, interrupted by aggressive sobs, as she screamed at the deity. While she asked why, the deity stood up. Her large skull bowed a little, almost submissively. 

The Necromancer hadn’t expected her deity, her god, to wrap her arms around her, the feathers shielding her from light, and to hold her tightly. Freyja remembered that she hadn’t hugged back, she only let herself fall into the embrace, the feathers cold but soothing to the touch. When her knees grew weak, the god lowered them both down. Both of them sitting on their knees, Dabria still holding her carefully, but with comfort. That was when Freyja hugged back, acceptance running through her veins, cold but comforting, slow but sure. 

It had been a few years since then, the sigils on Freyja’s skin a constant comfort. Her magic twisting under her fingertips whenever she moved.

But she wasn’t here to cast, she was here to talk. So she carefully took Sophie out of her holster and sat her down next to the Gravestone. 

“I know you can hear me, Mara. I can feel you,” She started, hoping that the slightly teasing tone in her voice would get her a reply. It didn’t. So she sighed and tried again. 

  
“Mara, I appreciate you looking out for me. I really do. But you need to rest. You can’t stay with me forever, even though I would like that very much, we both know that that isn’t how it works,” she stopped herself, trying to find the words that have been laying on her tongue for so long. She had prepared a speech, but now it was gone from her mind. So she started to speak, forgetting her plan, just speaking what came to mind. “I miss you, you know? Every day. Sometimes I make jokes that Libi doesn’t understand, but ones that I know you would have loved, but you’re not here anymore. Well, you are but you’re not supposed to be.” 

Her voice slowed as she saw the dried flower move. The movements were slow, but planned. Freyja could taste the familiar magic in the air. Druid magic was so different from hers, but in the end, Magic was magic, so even though it was so different, it felt familiar. 

The stem of the flower buried itself in the soft dirt of the grave, but nothing happened. So Freyja opened her mouth again and continued. 

  
“I know you’re just trying to look out for me, you always have but-” she took a deep breath. “But you don’t have to anymore, okay?” A few tears left her eyes and wandered down her cheeks, she didn’t wipe them away, there was no reason to. “I have people looking out for me, by the gods, I even eat regularly. Libi makes sure of that. I’ve been healthy, at least I’m doing my best.” 

She let her head fall forward, her hair shielding her tears from view. “I just don’t know what I can do to make you happy, to make you able to move on.” With the smallest movement of her head, her eyes were on the flower again. Mara never liked to talk through Sophie. So she hoped for anything from the flower. That had always been Mara’s domain, after all. Flowers. 

“Could you just please tell me that it’s okay?” When she noticed that her question didn’t make any sense, she elaborated. “To be happy now, because, Gods, for the first time since I’ve lost you, I’m happy.” A soft interrupted her speech. “I’m happy now.” 

And when her tears fell, a smile on her face, something happened. The flower started to gain colour again, slowly regaining her life. 

The daffodil bloomed. It was beautiful and stood in stark contrast with the colour of the dirt that it was standing on. 

Freyja collected herself for just a second, trying to reach out and feel Mara’s spirit, but no matter how far she reached, she couldn’t feel her. So as the smile didn’t falter from her face, she watered the new flower with her tears. Tears of happiness and of sadness at the same time, but mostly, tears of acceptance. She was finally ready, to move on. 

She let herself cry until no more tears came, before she gently picked up Sophie. Her mind started playing with the idea of casting disguise self on herself, to make sure that Libi wouldn’t see her tear stained face, but then she decided against it. If she trusted Libi enough with her life, she would be able to trust her with her tears as well. 

The gates of the cemetery were cold under her fingers as she pulled it open. She was expecting to be alone, Libi had walked her to the cemetery, sure, but that didn’t mean that she would stay. But when Freyja looked to her right, she saw the Aasimar, slowly pushing one of her daggers over soft wood, carving at something that didn’t really look like anything. 

“Oh there you are,” Libi smiled out, before standing up, while sheathing her dagger. “Someone tried to give me some copper while I was sitting there, thought I was a beggar.” Her grin got careful before she spoke the next words. “Did everything work out alright?” 

Freyja only nodded, she saw that Libi was staring at her tear streaked face but thankfully didn’t mention anything.   
  
“That’s good. Do you want to head back?” Her tone wasn’t forceful, it was just a suggestion, one that Freyja could take or not. It sounded like it didn’t matter what she picked, the other would be okay with it.    
  
“Please.” 

Libi just nodded and turned around, taking steps and only speeding up when Freyja was right next to her.    
  


They walked in silence for a while, before the Wizard spoke. “So what were you carving?” 

“Oh! It’s a duck,” she held the clump of wood up, it didn’t look like a duck. “Well, it’s supposed to be. It was my intention to make a duck, but I failed spectacuarly, as you can see.” She grinned out, throwing the clump up, only to catch it again and then repeating the motion.

Freyja laughed softly. “It might be a duck soon, just gotta keep working on it.” 

“I suppose, but I might try something over than a duck first to be quite honest with you, it’s harder than I thought.” 

Freyja didn’t answer that, only looked at her friend throwing the duck up and catching it again. 

She really didn’t lie to Mara. She was happy now. 


End file.
